


Raindrops on the Window (each tells a story)

by nothereforlong



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28201131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothereforlong/pseuds/nothereforlong
Summary: A series of mcyt oneshots I'm writing to procrastinate the other in-progress fics I have. Requests are open!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Welcome!

Hello, and welcome to the Procrastination Zone, where I procrastinate all the work I _should_ be doing and write oneshots for block men instead. Requests are open, feel free to ask for anything!

Well, not _anything_ anything. In order to stifle any possible pandemonium, there are some ground rules:

  1. I probably won’t do anything with romance/ships. I don’t have anything against it! It’s just not the sort of thing I like to write. I doubt I’d be very good at it anyway, so you probably aren’t missing out on much
  2. I do, however, _live_ for platonic relationships, so send them good good family/friend/platonic soulmate requests!
  3. AUs? Love ‘em! Just make sure to fill me in on any extra info if your request is particularly complex.
  4. I’m open to any genre/type of oneshot: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, horror, fantasy, action adventure - you name it! I love variety.
  5. Idk, be nice to each other? There isn’t really a direct place for people to interact here except for in the comments, but I feel like it’s still a good general rule.



I feel like I should have an ‘inspired by’ section here, but at this point there are many, many oneshot request books by talented people, so I can’t name any specifics. If you don’t like my writing style, feel free to go check out some of them! You will not be disappointed.

And, I think that’s it. I’ve already added a pre-written work in the next chapter, so this fic actually has some substance and isn’t just a boring list of rules. Have a great day!


	2. Voices in my Head (re-uploaded)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade had voices in his head.
> 
> He wasn’t insane (at least not that he knew of), but the voices had always been there, calamitous and opinionated. Various friends and family had their own theories as to what the voices were or where they’d come from, but no one knew for sure. Techno’s favorite theory was that they were the spirits of all the people he’d killed, forever locked in the prison of his mind. That’s what he told the people he fought in tournaments with, just to see the fear on their faces.
> 
> In reality, the voices weren’t actually dangerous, just mildly annoying. They were loud, but never loud enough to overtake his own thoughts. At least, that’s what techno had assumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This is not a new work! This is one of my previously-written fics, but I wanted to add something just to give people an idea of my writing style. If you've read this before, I apologize, and new stuff is coming soon, I promise!

Technoblade had voices in his head.

He wasn’t insane (at least not that he knew of), but the voices had always been there, calamitous and opinionated. Various friends and family had their own theories as to what the voices were or where they’d come from, but no one knew for sure. Techno’s favorite theory was that they were the spirits of all the people he’d killed, forever locked in the prison of his mind. That’s what he told the people he fought in tournaments with, just to see the fear on their faces.

In reality, the voices weren’t actually dangerous, just mildly annoying. They were loud, but never loud enough to overtake his own thoughts. At least, that’s what techno had assumed.

__________

Techno sat up with great effort, rubbing his eyes against the pale light filtering through the windows. It was still early morning, judging by the weakness of the sun’s rays, but that didn’t seem to deter the voices swimming through his mind.

_ Late!  _ One yelled, upon realizing his return to consciousness. The others chimed in, all seeming to share a similar mentality.

_ Late! _

_ You’re late! _

_ Too late. _

_ Laaaaaaate _

_ Technolate! _

“I am not late,” Techno said defiantly, leaning his head on his hands. Normally he could deal with their screaming, but he just woke up. If they kept like this all day, he was going to get a migraine.

The voices in his head continued to protest, and Techno gestured at the clock blindly with one hand as if to prove his point. “Look, see? I promised I’d be up by seven. It’s literally 6:58 - if anything, I’m early.”

The voices did not seem to agree with him, but they were often pissy when he first woke up. Techno was pretty sure they remained conscious while he was sleeping, but apparently they much preferred having someone around to harass as supposed to just shouting at each other or the void of emptiness that was his unconscious brain. The voices always demanded to know exactly when Techno was planning to wake up, and if he overslept he’d hear about it for hours.

Eventually common sense caught up to the ghosts in his head, as the misplaced accusations lulled and they returned back to their normal, chaotic chatter. The voices got mad easily, but they were often too distracted by their own eccentricities to bother him for long. Glad for the respite, however brief it may be, Techo heaved himself out of bed and started on the rest of his day.

__________

The harmony of so many different voices and personalities was rare but when the voices did manage to coordinate with each other, it was usually to call Techno names.

He was not very fond of this habit of theirs, but it was impossible to break now - they just loved teasing him too much, he supposed. They were real bullies, his voices. They loved to bully him.

“I’m not lost!” Techno insisted for the umpteenth time, tone full of exasperation.

_ Technolost! _ The voices shouted cheerily in return.

Techno grumbled to himself as he rounded another hill. They were impossible when they got like this, nothing he could say or do would make them stop. That didn’t stop him from pointlessly arguing with them anyway, though.

“No, guys, listen. I’m the human GPS, alright? I’m never lost. I can’t get lost, it’s biologically impossible. I have world coordinates written into my dna. My bloodstream is composed of nothing but pure navigational power. Now, if you’re looking for lost, you should go talk to George. I hear he has yet to be found.”

Techno’s - admittedly lame - pun was enough to keep the voices amused for a while, having been spun into a frenzy at the mention of George. They didn’t particularly like the man, but they sure did love to talk about him. By the time the voices remembered their original goal of being a general menace, Techno had made it back to Pogtopia.

Re-suffixing Techo’s name was one of the chat’s favorite pastimes, but that didn’t mean it was always unpleasant. Techno was reminded of this as he flew through the stormy night sky, tiny drops of rain streaking past his face as he held tight to his newly-acquired trident. The voices in his head thundered behind him, converging into a nearly unanimous chant of  _ Technoplane! _

The incessant noise was almost nice at times like these, Techno thought. He had his own little band of supporters. Sure, they bullied him more than they ever complimented him, but when they banned together, egging him on, Techno felt powerful. He felt like an unstoppable force, able to conquer the entire world if he tried. It was probably a dangerous feeling. Techno didn’t particularly care.

__________

Sometimes, Techno would ask the voices for advice. Never on important things - the voices were hardly responsible enough for him to trust them with any real problems - but they were more than eager to assist with menial tasks. Like, for example, helping him to name his newest horse.

The voices’ suggestions were strange at best and downright offensive at worst, so he opted to not actually use any of their suggestions. He was content to just sit and listen to the outpouring cacophony of names, knowing he’d probably just ask Wilbur or Tommy to name the horse later.

That was, until one of the voices caught his attention. It was not necessarily louder than the others, but it was clearer and closer, as if someone was speaking into his ear. He quickly identified it as the voice of Fossilnet.

Techno didn’t know the names of all his voices - there were thousands upon thousands, almost too many to count and  _ definitely  _ too many to memorize individual names for. However, there were a select few voices who were often more helpful than the others. Most of the voices were complete fools, so Techno grasped desperately at any ones that showed signs of competence. Fossil was one of his more generous voices, often providing him advice or tipping him off to nearby villages and temples.

_ Name it Carl, _ Fossil said. They also provided a set of coordinates, but gave no context as to why.

“I don’t know, Carl’s sort of a boring name. What’re the coordinates for?” Techno had picked up the poor habit of addressing his voices out loud. He did his best to stifle it around others - he doesn’t want anyone thinking him to be any more insane than his reputation already suggests - but he was standing alone in his barn, no one around to hear except the horses. And they probably knew all his deepest darkest secrets anyway. The sad, large-eyed looks they gave him always felt like they bore into his very soul. It was unnerving.

_ Specific spot underground. That cave has at least four veins of diamonds, probably more,  _ came Fossil’s reply.

“I assume this is in return for naming the horse what you want?” Techno enquired, already digging in through his chests for a nametag. “How do you even know where diamonds  _ are _ ? Aren’t you all stuck in my head anyway?”

_ We all have our secrets. And no, we can go wherever. We just chose to be here. _

Techno stopped in his tracks, incredulous. “Why on  _ earth  _ would you- You know what, never mind. I’m not even gonna ask. It’s not worth it.”

_ We stay because you’re the only one who can hear us. We get lonely. _

“What are you, ghosts or something?”

Fossil didn’t reply. They seemed to have retreated back into the loud hum of background noise, once again becoming indistinguishable from the others. Techno sighed - he could never seem to get a straight answer from any of his voices - and attached the nametag to his newest horse’s bridle. “There y’go, Carl. Now you have a name and everything.”

When Techno talked to phil about his exchange with Fossil later that evening, his father seemed to agree on his newly-forming ‘ghost’ theory. Not vengeful ghosts who had fallen by the hands of the unforgiving Technoblade, like the rumors his brothers liked to spread, but regular people who had passed on. It was still just a theory, but it made Techno uncomfortable. He didn’t want a bunch of dead people hanging out in his brain, that was just sad.

Before heading off to bed that night, Phil had turned to Techno one last time. “Do you think maybe that one voice, Fossil, had a pet named Carl before? Or a loved one? That would explain why they were so insistent.”

Techno had simply shrugged, unsure of how to respond. If having dead people hanging out in your brain was sad, dead people who asked you to name horses after the people they missed from when they were alive was even sadder.

If Techo made an extra effort to keep Carl safe, no one said anything. And if Fossil seemed just a bit happier than before, well that was neither here nor there.

__________

The voices were very rarely helpful, or useful, but sometimes they were particularly bad. Techno had bent over at the waist, clutching his head as nothing but  _ E _ s ran through his mind.

It wasn’t even that the voices were screaming at him - it was just the letter E, over and over. Like he was some kindergartener they were trying to teach the alphabet to. Except not really, because when teaching a child the alphabet, you usually use more than one letter.

Techo relayed this to Phil, who had doubled back in concern when he realized Techno was no longer following. Instead of being supportive, like a good father, Phil just laughed at him.

The world was truly cruel to Technoblade sometimes.

“You all aren’t funny,” he muttered as he trailed after Phil, who was still chuckling. The voices seemed to disagree. They still chanted the same dreaded letter, the tone of their words thick with amusement.

After about a week and a half, Techno realized that the  _ E _ s were going to become a regular thing. It was no matter, he just filtered it away in the back of his mind as yet another chant to ignore. Techno had gotten quite good at ignoring things.

__________

Techno was loath to call his voices “wholesome,” but he could think of no other word to describe the way they acted upon seeing the other members of the server. Techno had always been sort of a hermit by nature - he wasn’t particularly fond of human interaction of any sort - and it was perhaps because of that that the voices would become overly-excited whenever they saw new people. The normal chatter in his brain would devolve into rampant cheering of the person’s name. It varied in intensity, from a pleasant greeting ( _ Sam!)  _ to an enthusiastic chant ( _ Tubbo!! _ ) to full-out exuberant hollering ( _ PHILZA MINECRAFT!!! _ ).

Phil seemed to be their favorite. Techno didn’t really mind. Phil was his favorite, too.

It did make social interaction even more difficult, however. It took a great amount of mental effort on Techno’s part not to just constantly repeat others’ names as a means of communication. It was easy to get swept up in the storm of voices, and if Techno had any less self-restraint he probably wouldn’t be able to maintain coherent conversation with anyone.

But while Techno may not have control over the voices, they couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want. He at least had enough self restraint for that.

__________

Except for when he didn’t.

Techno stood on the edge of the raised podium, looking into Tubboo’s scared eyes. The boy was shivering. Techno wasn’t sure if it was from shock, terror, or the cold. Schlatt’s voice rang in his ears, overshadowing the voices in his mind.

_ No,  _ They screamed.

_ Don’t do it,  _ They yelled.

_ Not Tubbo,  _ They pleaded.

They were right. Of course they were right, there were thousands of them. If thousands of people all thought the same thing, there must be at least some validity to that thought. Besides, if they really were ghosts, then they had entire lifetimes of wisdom backing their cries. Techno should listen to them. They knew what they were talking about. They were telling the truth.

Then, a shift.

The voices were no longer pleading with him. No longer reasoning. They had sensed his change of heart, had felt him giving in. He had turned to them because he needed their encouragement, he needed them to convince him not to kill Tubbo. Not to murder his little brother’s best friend. He needed them.

And that’s exactly what they wanted. The voices changed.

_ Do it,  _ They said.  _ Betray Tommy,  _ They said.  _ Kill him,  _ They said. 

And Techno was conflicted like he’d never been before. His sturdy resolve had crumbled. He had turned to the voices for help, and this was the advice they were giving him.

It was bad advice! He shouldn’t listen to it. He shouldn’t! Right?

But then again, the voices knew. The voices were helpful. The voices were numerous. The voices loved Phil.

Everything was too loud, too much. Techno couldn’t hold back the floodgates any longer. He couldn’t suppress the cries of hundreds of thousands of spirits, vengeful and bloodthirsty. They poured into his brain stronger and clearer and more persistent than ever. He immediately got a splitting headache, like someone was cleaving his skull in two with his own axe. He saw red. He couldn’t hear anything over the voices anymore, the rest of the world drowned out in the deafening roar. 

_ Blood for the blood god. _

Techno aimed his crossbow for Tubbo’s chest and shot.


End file.
